Page 145 of Offside Rules

"You heard me."

The play moves into our zone. I turn, track the winger, and get my stick into the passing lane. Hunter collects the loose puck and sends it out.

Beau follows me toward the boards.

"I’m not doing this with you out here," I tell him.

"Then you should’ve kept your hands off her."

The whistle goes at the other end.

I turn toward him. "I love your sister."

His expression hardens. "No you don’t. You only care about yourself."

"I’m sorry for what happened six years ago. I’ve been sorry every fucking day since."

"You think that fixes it?"

"No," I say. It doesn’t, I know that.

"Then stay away from her."

"I can’t promise you that."

He shoves me. I move backward, keeping my gloves down.

"She gets to decide if she doesn’t want to be with me, not you."

He drives me into the glass.

My bad shoulder hits first. Pain flashes down my arm, and before I can get my footing, he’s got a fist in my jersey.

"Beau. Enough," I say behind clenched teeth.

His glove drops and the first punch catches my mouth.

I taste blood and turn my face away from the next one, trying to get my good hand between us.

I could hit him. I know exactly where he’s open. He’s a good defender—mean too—but I’ve won more fights than he’s even started. I could beat the shit out of him if I wanted to but that wouldn’t get me any closer to being with her.

All I can think about is Baylor standing in that corridor, asking him to listen.

I grab his wrist instead.

"Stop."

He yanks free and swings again, connecting with my eye socket this time.

There’s a whistle. Somebody yells my name.

Beau hauls on my jersey as I try to turn out of the corner. My skate catches, and for a second, all my weight goes the wrong way.

My injured arm is trapped between us. Then we hit the ice.

The pain is immediate and so sharp that everything else disappears.

I can’t breathe.